


1,329 Years

by ryantheguyhaywood



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Other, immortal au, not really major character??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryantheguyhaywood/pseuds/ryantheguyhaywood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life for Michael Jones was a vicious cycle of love and loss. Of course, that happens when you're immortal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1,329 Years

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if theres, errors, i wrote this on my phone!!

Life was dim in 1672. 

Life was dim in 1805.

Life was dim in 2017.

Life started to blur into colors in 2034, when he met a man named Ray Narvaez Jr; who had the most wonderful smile. His skin contrasted beautifully with his own ivory flesh. 

"Michael Jones," was the first time he'd ever heard anyone say his name so uniquely; so carefully. Like he was hanging on every last syllable, dragging it out with his New York accent. He loved the slight smile that stuck when he said his name, the sweet nothings that would come after it.

Life exploded into beautiful hues in 2035, when he started dating the most wonderful Puerto Rican in the world. Their confessions had been awkward and stuttered, but still sincere nonetheless. 

The months that spun out after that were always laced with the most fantastic rainbows and pastels that Michael had ever seen. Every day made his cheeks hurt from smiling so much; his lips chapped from kisses. He had ached for color to burst into his life again, and he was ecstatic that it did. They would spend all of the weekends together in their shared apartment. Some days they would just lay in bed and cuddle all day, and some days the sheets were wrinkled and the air smelled of sweat and sex.

Life was the best it had ever been in 2037, on the day of their wedding. Michael had seen shades of things he didn't know existed. The colors fully came into view when they sealed the deal with a tender kiss. Nothing had ever been more gorgeous.

Ten years had gone by when Ray started questioning things. Michael's flawless appearance hadn't changed a bit, he still had his same dimples, all of the same freckles (Ray was sure--he didn't spend hours counting them for nothing), even his hair was the same besides his usual haircuts. He didn't look like he was aging. When confronted about it, Michael just brushed it off as extensive products and elixirs. 

Life had a blurred lens on it in 2053. He could keep his secret no more, and Ray held him as he blurted his confession and sobbed. He told him how scared he was and how much Ray had lit up his world with the brilliance of a thousand lights, and how afraid he was to lose him. That night, their grips on each other were a little tighter, their lips a little closer; breaths intertwining in a hot vapor.

Life began to look a bit bleak in 2079. Ray was old, but despite everything he stayed with Michael. They still shared tender kisses, gentle touches, and never-too-long hugs. Sometimes Ray needed help picking something up, or help out of bed. Michael didn't mind, he still loved Ray all the same. He would happily obilge to get anything he needed. They never held hands in public anymore, if they even left the house.

Life continued to fade away into grayscaled versions of what colors used to look like in 2090. Ray had to be attached to some sort of machine all of the time, and could barely leave his bed. Their bed. Michael did everything he absolutely could to help out, but he still cried himself to sleep at night. He would always glance at the framed photo on Ray's bedside table; it was the both of them, when they first started dating. Michael had pulled Ray into a sidehug and kissed his cheek when the camera took the picture. With a sad smile, he rubbed his dry eyes and fell asleep. 

Life faded away into monochrome colors once more in 2092, when Ray passed away in Michael's arms. He locked himself inside for days, only leaving to go to the funeral. When he got home, he sat on the made-up side of the bed and took out the picture from the frame on the table. His smile was bittersweet as he choked back more tears. 

He opened the closet and pulled out a box from the top shelf. As he sat back down, he knew he couldn't hold the tears back as he opened up the scrapbook from inside. There were many pictures of him and others, all of them with both parties smiling happily. He was with someone different in every picture, and he knew there were dates and names on the back of each in sharpie. Michael remembered every one of them as though it had only been 5 minutes since he saw them. A man with a British accent and a rather large nose. A man with lots of tattoos and a mustache to match. A woman with hair so red it was almost like rubies. A man with swoopy hair and enough technical knowledge to support a company. A man with a large beard and a heart that was just as large. A woman with a side-shave and as many piercings as she had tattoos. He chuckled at all of the memories that were flowing back.

That was only the first page. He flipped to the back of the book--at least 50 more pages-- until he could find a blank space to fill. He inserted the picture of Ray and him, his hand hovering for a while afterwards. He put everything back in the correct place in the closet, and walked back out onto the streets. 

Because knowing him, someone else would be on his arm again in 6 years, and the cycle would start again.


End file.
